By Paulo Coelho
In the Mojave desert, one often comes across those famous ghost towns that were built around the gold mines. They were abandoned when all the gold had been mined out. They had served their purpose and there was no reason for anyone to go on living there.
When we walk through a forest, we see trees which, once they have served their purpose, have fallen. However, unlike ghost towns, their fall has opened up space for light to penetrate, they have enriched the soil and their trunks are covered in new vegetation.
Our old age will depend on the way we have lived. We can either end up like a ghost town or like a generous tree, which continues to be important even after its fall.
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I like this post. It is true. If we are clever enough to survive and become of age, we should prepare for our life as old people or we may end up as a deserted person, whose destination vanished
Dear Paulo,
…..
one thing I know,
when you are.. good,
you really can touch heaven,
love rules.
…………………
……………….
it’s worth trying,
worth giving..
yourself away.
love
Agnieszka
I have a student who sent me a poem this morning. In it, she wrote that her brother had stolen her childhood. Had fed her cocaine and pills in return for sex, for years. Her parents knew about it, and did nothing. So much pain and suffering. So much strength. My troubles are nothing compared to this brave girl. I am a tree. She is a leaf, holding on for now, and when she is ready, she will let go and fly with the wind, and perhaps share some of her strength with the world.
I see a ruinous building with a tree growing through it
- I hope it’s the one Santiago sleeps under.
xxxx
I see a rainbow.
Love
Hildegarde
As always, the outside nature provides an interesting mirror of our inside correspondence.
Thanks.
i guess that means that our old age will depend on the past, and the choices we make through our lives…some will die after they will have lives their lives fully, and some others will have lived dead..maybe the ghost towns will be the “ghost people”, the people that were always in a routine and when they stopped working, life as is was to them will end..then they will be indifferent to everything wlse that is life, they will live like ghosts..they will never know how it would be if they had tried to be themselves and not follow patterns and others dreams.they are useless now..
the “tree people” i guess will be those who they tried all their lives to follow their dreams, and this dream gave them life even at the toughest moments..The seeds at theirpath made flowers and all their efforts were worthy, all the way..
they gave light, a real example to all the other people, at this ‘dark’ world full of ghosts, enriching them with their will, faith, and love for themselves, their dreams, the world..
The Sycamore tree in Autumn
soaking up the cool, bright sun
the leaves giving shade to the seeds, flexing their wings
Yes, soon will the strong winds blow
what a sight
the great number of seeds, all as one, spiral and spin through the air
who doesn’t wish them great distance?
each leaf
parched from protecting the promise of potential replanting
watching the sun melt into the horizon
awaits a moment still as death
while no breeze nor breath it falls
at the foot of the life-giving tree
to become warmth
and nourishment for,
throughout the white Winter weather
asleep as one
dreaming again
of Spring.
Leaf, so beautiful what you wrote..